


Lah Lah London

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [95]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dancing in the Street, Drabble, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, London, rooftop film, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Still in the middle of planning what Carmen calls "their non-wedding", Tom and Carmen treat themselves to a night out.





	Lah Lah London

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of three drabbles inspired by Tom's appearance in the Rebel Park Productions' short film _Leading Lady Parts_.

The opportunity to attend a screening of _La La Land_ on a rooftop in Peckham was wasted on Carmen. Because she was pregnant, so she was always falling asleep or talking about sleep or fantasizing about all the sleep she was going to get. Sleep was a welcome distraction, a respite from everything else going on in her life.

It wasn’t like life was bad, or even boring. It just seemed to require more effort than she, at present, was willing or able to put in.

Take her wedding, for example. A low-key, low stress affair that Tom had graciously offered to organize when she realized the weekend could all boiled down to little more than a few meals, a ceremony, and maybe a night out at a club where she’d probably fall asleep on a banquette.

Of course she didn’t leave it entirely to Tom. There were sporadic emails sent over the weeks leading up to the ceremony in September. They said things like “Can we have a cake with frosting on the side because frosting is gross?” and “Would Luke mind sharing ring bearer duties with Annie’s six year old?” and “Thank you for answering all of my mom’s questions about stuff to do in London  because she’d rather bug you than use Google like a normal person.”

So when Tom wanted a night out to do something fun, she rallied as best she could. Because in mere weeks the two of them would go down to the registry office, say some words in front of a government official, and just like that, they would be married.

They would be married, and then parents to an actual human being. A human who would need to be named (though Tom had argued briefly that they could name the baby ‘Bertram’ and continue to call him Birty or Bertie after he was born). A child who would need to be clothed. Fed. Sheltered. Consoled. Educated. Entertained.

A child who was already loved. Loved and loved and loved.

Life was rushing at her, rushing at them, and it was all they could do to keep up. So Tom planned their no-plans, low-key, no-stress weekend that just happened to include a wedding, and Carmen felt bad that all she could manage was her random emails and sleep.

That, and this rooftop screening on a sultry weeknight in August. A little treat — what could be more romantic than watching a musical under the sky at night? — complete with fizzy drinks and stripey deck chairs in the midst of a crowd of hipster couples all digging into bags of organic popcorn drizzled with truffle oil.

Carmen couldn’t bring herself to be snarky, because it really was a lovely evening, so she snuggled into Tom and tried very hard to pay attention to the movie. Whenever he nudged her, she’d sputter and insist she was awake then hush when people sitting nearby would ask her to quiet down.

But then the movie was over, and people were making their way down the stairs to the street below. Carmen was right behind Tom, watching the nape of his neck as they took each step carefully. And once they were out on the sidewalk, Tom stood with his hands on his hips and smiled indulgently at Carmen who stretched her arms and did a little dance to wake up her feet. She looked up at him and said:

“So you’re telling me it was a White dude who saved jazz?”

Tom, torn between cringing and laughing, ignored the looks she drew from the people streaming around them. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her down the street.

“Does that mean you didn’t like the movie then?” Tom spoke in a low burr, relaxed and happy from the warmth and the Champagne.

“I’m just saying I would have rather bugged Gemma to see if we could get an advance screener of _Crazy Rich Asians_.”

Tom groaned. “I knew I should have asked her when we saw her last.”

Carmen sniffed. “It’s fine.” She looked up at him, a smirk on her face. “But back to the la la movie. Your girlfriend Emma is a very _sincere_ singer.”

“Button…” Tom warned.

“What?” Carmen blinked up at him. “It’s the truth.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tom growled. “You are.”

“Not _anymore_ …” Carmen sang. “I’m your baby mama. Your ball and chain.”

“My wife,” Tom said.

“In a few weeks, sure.” Carmen gathered up her hair, which was sticking to the sweaty nape of her neck, and twisted it into a knot atop her head.

“No time at all.” Tom squeezed her hand when she slipped it back into his.

“What’s left to do?” Carmen wondered.

Tom considered, the details of the wedding he was pretending to plan coming to the fore. “We’ve got the meals sorted — supper the night before with the families, breakfast at Sketch after the ceremony. And Rules just confirmed for dinner that night.”

“Sweet!”

“Annie is hosting supper the night before with your mum.”

“Really?” Carmen frowned. “I thought we were just ordering pizza and having everybody eat in the garden.”

“We were until your mum decided she had to do something as the mother of the bride.”

“Of course,” Carmen sighed. “At least she’s coming.”

“Yes.”

“No big deal. Just our families meeting for the first time.”

“Yes.”

“The night before our shotgun non-wedding.”

Tom stopped to look at Carmen. The street was quiet, with closed shops and people hurrying past to catch a bus. She looked un-bothered to him, brow smooth and lips parted, but he knew her mind was racing.

“Dance with me,” he said.

“Dance with you?”

Tom nodded. “It just occurred to me we should practice our first dance.”

“But we’re not having a dance, we’re having a dinner.”

“We’ll get somebody’s iPhone out.” Tom shrugged. “Make some room at the restaurant.”

“Okay.”

Tom pulled her into his arms. “Ready?”

“What song did you have in mind?”

“Ed Sheeran,” Tom stated.

“NO.”

“Mumford…”

“I thought we said no banjos on our wedding day, Sporty.”

“Fair enough.”

Tom closed his eyes and began to sway, waiting until he could feel Carmen snuggle into him before dropping his head to rest his chin on top of her head. The night was warm, too warm to stand so close, but it felt perfect. It felt right to stop, even for a moment, and dance.

Cars were still driving by, though with less frequency. People swerved around them easily, unaware or unbothered. Tom was humming, tunelessly at first and then there was a melody. Carmen felt the song more than she heard it, him humming between soft presses of his lips to her hair. And then she began to sing along, almost to herself:

_When your day is through_

_And so is your temper_

_You know what to do_

_I'm gonna always be there_

_Sometimes if I shout_

_It's not what's intended_

_These words just come out_

_With no gripe to bear_

Tom nuzzled her temple, waiting until Carmen turned her face up to his to kiss him. He cupped her face with his hand as he kissed her back, humming still, then broke the kiss and listened to her continue to sing.

_I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say_

_I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be_

_But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me_

_I promise you, I promise you I will_


End file.
